Top Never Ending
by Haikoui
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a man who lived in the recesses of his mind. However, there was always a sound somewhere, an odd whirl that he cannot get out of his head, as though a top was spinning in front of him. This is Dominic Cobb. Full summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Top Never Ending

**Author: **Haikoui

**Disclaimer: **Christopher Nolan owns Inception and rightfully so.

**Summary: **Once upon a time, there was a man who lived happily in the recesses of his mind. However, there was always a sound somewhere, an odd whirl that he cannot get out of his head, as though there was a top spinning right in front of him. In his daughter's playhouse, he finds a still spinning top. In his dead wife's jacket, he finds a knife. Tormented by the top that never falls and using the forgotten knowledge of dreams, he kills himself to the horror of his children. To the man's utmost surprise, he wakes in a plane on the way to Los Angeles from Sydney, with five unfamiliar faces staring back at him. But the sound of the spinning top never leaves him, even though the top falls. The man's despair turns him into a person lost between the creases of dreams and reality. This is the story of a man named Dominic Cobb.

* * *

**I**

_Whirl, whirl. _It is always there, behind his children's joyful cries, behind the sound of the running tap as he washes the dishes after dinner. His doctor says that the noise is nothing – everyone hears it and that is the way they were built to hear it. It feels unnatural to him. It is as though there is a top spinning in front of his eyes, the _whirl, whirl_ of it coming from its endless twirls.

"Do you hear that, peanut?" he inquires his daughter, Phillipa, who nods her head against his chest as they snuggle up – all three of them, him, Phillipa, and James – in front of the fireplace. "It's mommy!" she exclaims, looking up at him with her bright blue eyes. James nods fervently from his place on the other side of Cobb, grinning toothily.

He swallows and laughs. It sounds hollow to him. "Yes. Mommy." Everyone interprets the noise in their own way, he supposes. But the noise is driving him insane. He always lives his life out the best he can – driving Phillipa to her ballet lessons, taking James out for ice cream in the summer, and he himself learning about the wonder that was dreams. But the noise never leaves him, and he can never think of a time when it _didn't_ plague the back of his mind.

He sits one evening on his deck, looking at the sunset. It's a gorgeous sunset tonight, reds and yellows and oranges streaking across the sky like a fire. His cell phone rings insistently and he flips it open, answering, "Yes, Ruhtra?"

"Hi, Dom," says the man on the other end. "I'm at your door and you're not opening. I also came to talk to you about those Penrose Staircases you wanted me to research."

He hangs up. Cobb rolls his eyes, enters the house, and opens the dark, rich mahogany door to reveal a tall, thin man with his black hair sleeked back, almost flat against his head. "Ruhtra," says Cobb warmly, welcoming him inside. Ruhtra enters the house and looks around. "Where are Phillipa and James?" he asks.

"Phillipa is at her piano lessons. I left James with Endaira," Cobb answers, setting himself down on the sofa. Ruhtra sits next to him and takes an orange from the fruit bowl on the coffee table.

There is something odd about the friends in his life. Cobb has always noticed this. He's only known them for five years, but he feels as though he's known them for a lifetime. Well, Ruhtra, anyway. His appearance is very familiar and his obsession over paradoxes in the dream world is _overwhelmingly familiar._ His name never seems familiar, to Cobb's unending curiosity. Endaira is ridiculously familiar to him too, and he can't figure out why, but her compassion and her protective nature are traits that strike him as though he's known her in a past life. His other friends, like Semae, Fusuy and even the Japanese multi-billionaire Otias, who insists his name is Greek, nudge at something in the back of his head. _Whirl, whirl,_ he hears, and he shakes his head to clear the odd feeling. A rapping causes Ruhtra to jump and Cobb to rise from his place on the sofa and open the door again.

Semae stands in front of him, grinning widely with teeth gleaming as though they'd been replaced by pearls, and widely announcing in his British accent, "I've found the perfect person to Forge." His chestnut hair is parted neatly to the side and his eyes swivel to Ruhtra, who stands from his position on the sofa in contempt. Ruhtra and Semae never got along quite well. "Well, darling, you're here too!" says Semae, pushing into the house. Cobb shakes his head at Semae's antics – he always calls Ruhtra 'Darling,' which irritates the young, tall man even more, Cobb notices. He spots Endaira coming up the driveway, her hand clenched around young James's hand, and she smiles at him. "Cobb, he was absolutely wonderful," she says, reaching the doorway. "I would stay longer but – "

Cobb opens the door wider just as Semae kicks the chair Ruhtra had been lounging in instead of the sofa and Ruhtra emits a loud, high pitched noise in protest.

"On second thought, thank you," says Endaira, coming into the house. James eagerly runs to Ruhtra, who accepts him with wide arms, and Semae calls out, "Cobb, sit down and stop being a gentleman. I think Rut should talk about the staircases now before I beg to leave for Mombasa."

And for an hour, after Phillipa gets dropped off at his house by her piano teacher and after the children run to their room to play, they talk. Ruhtra discusses the paradoxes with a barely contained excitement; Semae shows all of them his idea on his next forgery, a young blonde; and Endaira, whose secret talent is building, displayed a bit, not too much, of her architecture for the dream levels of their next job.

_Whirl, whirl._

Cobb rubs his eyes in fatigue. The noise is still there and Endaira looks at him questioningly. "Are you alright?" she questions. "Have you been sleeping well?"

"No. It's just that… noise… that we always hear. It's been bothering me lately."

"Hm. It's never bothered me," said Semae calmly. "You know. Everyone's born hearing it. It's just the way our bodies work. Sweetheart, you should be used to it by now."

Cobb exhales heavily. "There's nothing about there being a _noise_ that we all hear in any textbook, _nowhere._ I don't understand. It's not natural."

They're all staring at him in an odd way. Even the children have turned silent from their room. The only thing he can hear now is the _whirl, whirl_, the noise that keeps him up at night. The door of the children's bedroom opens and James and Phillipa stare at him from down the hall eerily. Suddenly, stating this feels like a mistake, and he backpedals carefully. "But it must be because of my lack of sleep, Endaira, you're right. I'll feel better when I get some rest."

The world turns normal again, or as normal as it can be with the noise in the back of his head. Endaira, Semae, and Ruhtra have all turned amiable once more and James and Phillipa retreat back to their room and their laughter echoes down the hall.

A half hour later they leave. Endaira promises him that she'll be there in the morning to pick James up before he goes to work. He goes to his children's bedroom to tuck them in and finds them snuggled beneath their blankets. He gives one kiss to Phillipa on her forehead, one on James's, and tells them the tale of Ariadne, the Greek Princess, and Theseus, the hero she'd fallen in love with, because they adore that story like no other. They fall asleep in minutes and Cobb looks around the room. It's a mess, and he begins to pile James's toy cars into his toy chest and Phillipa's Barbies into her dollhouse as quietly as he can, when the _whirl, whirl_ from the back of his head, he notices, has gotten louder. Much louder.

And there it is. He sees a sleek top spinning smoothly in the center of the dollhouse. Something breaks from his mind. The top never falters in its spinning, and for five minutes he watches it with wide eyes. He suddenly remembers his dead wife and her obsession with her dreams – she made something but he couldn't remember exactly what (a token, perhaps? A… totem?), yet it kept her from mistaking dreams from reality – and her obsession had killed her. But… he thinks on. These tokens, totems, whatever they were, if they were supposed to tell the difference between dreams and reality, then in dreams they must always do something that would never happen in reality. Take a top, he thinks furiously, and spin it. And it reality, it must fall. Yet in a dream…

He turns and finds Phillipa and James wide awake, watching him in the dark from their beds. Quickly, he shuts the door of the dollhouse, and he breathes, "Go back to bed. I'm just putting your toys away. Don't worry, I'll just be in my room when you wake up." He exits the room and feels their eyes follow him. The door closes, but he can feel their burning stares. He walks to his own room and he knows their eyes are penetrating through the walls. _Whirl, whirl._ The top continues to spin in the dollhouse. And suddenly, he feels as though everyone had risen from their beds – Ruhtra, Semae, Endaira, even Fusuy and Otias (the former was in Mombasa, he believed, and the latter in Japan), to turn their heads from their houses to him, watching him. _Whirl, whirl. _The sound is tormenting. He pulls open his closet doors and searches for his pajamas.

_Whirl, whirl._

He finds his pajamas but right behind them, he finds his dead wife's most beloved wool jacket, with a handle sticking from the left hand pocket. He pulls out a knife and stares at it in bewilderment.

_Whirl, whirl._

The sound is tormenting him more and more. He knows it is most definitely unnatural. If he could only go back to the dollhouse and stop it from its incessant spinning, he would be relieved, but James and Phillipa's wide, eerie stares keep him from doing so.

_Yet in a dream…_

_Whirl, whirl._

Yet in a dream… what? If in reality the top stops spinning after being spun, then in a dream… it would… continue to spin?

He knows about Limbo. He's read on it. His father in law has told him about it. Cobb hopes that wherever he is in reality, the sedatives have worn off and he will be able to wake up. His heart clenches at the thought that he's lived a fake world with his children, with Ruhtra, Endaira, Semae.

_Arthur, Ariadne, Eames,_ a voice in his head whispers.

He holds the knife at his chest as the door to his bedroom door opens. "Daddy?" whispers Phillipa, her wide, unblinking, eerie eyes betraying the panicked tone in her voice. Watching him. The knife. James stands next to her, his eyes piercing through him.

"I'm sorry," Cobb whispers. He pulls the knife away from him, his wedding ring glinting on his left hand in the bedroom light as he prepares to plunge the knife in his chest –

His eyes find Phillipa and James, and suddenly Ruhtra, Endaira, and Semae are standing behind them – _Arthur, Ariadne, Eames, _the voice whispers – and there are tears streaming down their cheeks as though they are frightened, scared,_ pained_ that he is leaving, but their eyes remain menacing and hard, and they lunge for him, hands outstretched –

He forces the knife through his chest, pain rearing its ugly head in his mind, and for a brief second – oh, the glory of it – the top stops spinning, the noise fades from his mind, the silence of it brings the most pleasurable sensation he has felt in a long, _long_ time.

Before his world darkens, he sees Ruhtra, Endaira, and Semae above him, their tears flowing in a river onto his unmoving body. A voice inside him whispers, _Arthur, Ariadne, Eames.

* * *

_

**Thank you, Christopher Nolan, for the most brilliant movie I have ever seen in my life.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Inception. I sure as hell wish I had a remotely identical mind as Christopher Nolan.

* * *

**II**

He's on a plane, and the first thing he notices is the silence behind the roar of the engines and the clicking of the flight attendants' high heels. His eyes stare in front of him dazedly, taking it all in.

He hasn't been on a plane in such a long time. The world suddenly seems so much smaller and he struggles with the seat, staring around him. His eyes find Ruhtra. No. That's not right. What was his name again?

"Darling, give me some of that free champagne," says Semae from the seat behind him. Semae? That doesn't seem right either.

Ruhtra (no, no, that's not right at all) seems offended as he hands a glass of champagne to the British man. "The name's _Arthur, _not _darling,_" he growls.

Cobb stares. Ruhtra. Arthur. The same person. And the name _Arthur_ fit so much more. _Ruhtra_ is _Arthur_ spelled backwards, he notices.

Then everything clicks. The British man behind him – his name is Eames. Eames backwards is _Semae. _And Ariadne – he can see her now – Ariadne backwards is _Endaira._ Memories rush back to him now, and he moves his eyes back to Ruhtra – no, Arthur, he's going to have to get used to this – and Arthur finds him as well and gives him a shy smile. Cobb turns his gaze to Endaira – _Ariadne –_ and she sees him; he can see the wheels turning in her head, but she swallows and gives him an upward twitch of the mouth. Then there is Otias, whom he hasn't seen in _forever _– no, his name is Saito. Yes. Saito suit him so much more, a Japanese name for a Japanese man. There is _Yusuf_, not _Fusuy,_ in the back of the cabin, who gets up hurriedly to use the restroom. Eames sees Cobb peeking around his chair and gives him a smirk.

Saito picks up a phone and hurriedly calls someone and Cobb realizes with a start that he will see his children. His _real _children. He will tell his kids tales, stories of Ariadne and Theseus that he knows they will adore. Ariadne (_not Endaira,_ he reminds himself) sits up and hands him a glass of water.

"You were gone longer than all of us," she says, and there's a melancholy he can't place in her tone. "Not much, but… it might have done a number to you."

"Five years," he croaks in response. "I… five years. I forgot. Ariadne, I _forgot."_

"You lost yourself," she whispers.

Arthur looks solemn as he watches the exchange, and Cobb looks over at him. Arthur points to a man in front of Cobb, and suddenly the Inception floods into Cobb's mind. So they've done it. Robert Fischer Jr. sits silently, deep in thought, in front of him. Arthur puts a finger to his lips. They shouldn't talk. They shouldn't know each other. Cobb settles back into the seat and breathes in deeply. He takes out the top and spins it on the most stable thing he can find – the floor, which was level and smooth. The noise floods his brain once more, and the feeling is immensely displeasing – but the top falls.

He thinks the noise will stop. It doesn't. He panics and spins it again. Arthur and Ariadne regard him with confusion. Stop, stop, he pleads inwardly. Stop!

The top falls. The noise stops. He breathes a sigh of relief and rubs a hand over his eyes.

Time passes like years. As if they couldn't prolong the landing any longer, they land in LAX and go on pretending that they are oblivious to each other. Cobb is accepted into the US; Saito's kept his word, and all of a sudden, Cobb can remember the Limbo before, where he _hadn't_ forgotten himself, when he'd been searching for Saito. He remembers Ariadne screaming at him, _"Don't lose yourself!"_

"I won't!" he'd shouted back. That had been a lie.

Fischer's eyes follow him with slight puzzlement ("_Mr. Charles?" _he imagines him exclaiming) but Cobb ignores him, marching down the airport and spotting Miles. "Your children are waiting," says Miles, giving him a smile. Cobb turns slightly and sees Ariadne, Arthur, and Eames falling in line together, because Fischer has disappeared with his 'people,' hopefully off to split his father's empire. He feels a pang at not being with them, but he goes with Miles and on the ride back, he marvels at everything. Everything was _real, _everything was tangible, and he savors it all.

Miles gives him the honor of opening the door to the house. Cobb does so with his left hand. He vaguely notices he isn't wearing his wedding ring (this, he decides, he will ponder over later), and he enters the house.

He takes his top out again, to be sure. He lets it spin on the dining table. Miles moves out to the yard. "Phillipa, James," calls Miles, and Cobb's head shoots up. His darlings. His angels. Were they really – ?

Yes. They are out in the yard, playing. Building. "Look who's here."

Their gorgeous faces turn toward him, first in wonder, then in pure delight. "DADDY!" they scream, leaping up and running toward him. "DADDY – DADDY – _DADDY!"_ They are absolutely beautiful. He'd done them no justice in Limbo (guiltily, very guiltily, he shoves the thought away) because they are just far too beautiful. James rambles in excitement about the playtime he and Phillipa were occupied in.

He hears a _whirl, whirl _faintly in the background. His joy fades and the world seems to stop. Gently, he puts James down and tells them to continue. He will be right back, he tells them. Yet he sees the top lying on its side. The _whirl, whirl_ is driving him insane; he's unable to concentrate. Out of all the things he can't understand, this is now at the top of his list. But the noise fades away – perhaps it is just his mind adjusting to the lack of the noise in reality. Yes. That must be it. He tucks the top into his pocket.

An hour later, Miles leaves Cobb and his children alone. He watches them build a small house made of sticks and mud in the yard, with birds chirping in the trees and the wind blowing softly. He decides to test something.

"James, Phillipa," he calls, and his two angels lift their heads up to look at him. Their eyes are beautiful – blinking, not like the unearthly staring he'd encountered in Limbo – and they rise, wiping their hands on their clothes. He doesn't mind. He'll clean them later. Cobb beckons them over and they flop down on the ground in front of him. He sits as well and tells them to listen. "What do you hear?"

"The birdies!" shrieks James joyfully, pulling at Cobb's hand. "The birdies and the cri – the crickets!" Cobb chuckles, because there are no crickets at this time of day, and he says, "Is there anything else?"

"The wind?" Phillipa guesses. She's much more mature than what people take her for, and Cobb smiles at her. "Yes, of course, the wind. Anything else?"

They focus. Their expressions are those of curiosity and a longing to hear what their father is asking them to hear. But their expressions fall and they both shake their heads simultaneously. "Nothing," answers Phillipa, looking slightly puzzled. James nods fervently beside her.

Oh, thank _heaven. _His heart lifts. There is no unnatural sound. It is only him and his mind adjusting to the world around him – everyone has to adjust after leaving Limbo. His face breaks into a smile and he pulls his children in close to him, relishing in the wonder that is James and Phillipa. "Wonderful, fantastic," he breathes into their hair, "just perfect. I love you all so, so much. I can't believe I was away for so long." They pull away and their faces are happy again because they have pleased their father. But he doesn't want _them_ to please _him –_ _he_ needs to please _them,_ to make up for all the allotted time. The years he'd been gone.

"What about mommy?" James questions. Phillipa bites her lip, and Cobb can tell that she knows Mal – her mother – will never come back, that she's in a different world now, but James is far too young. Phillipa takes the initiative and answers, "You know the big guy, right? Up there?" She points to the clouds. James shakes his head yes. "Well, He's taking care of mommy now. She's sick and she doesn't want us to catch it, so she's up there and He's taking care of her. But one day you'll see her."

Cobb's chest bursts in pride and he hugs them to his chest again. His little angels (in Semae's – _Eames's – _case, his little _darlings_) have been so brave. But his phone rings and breaks the moment, and he tells James and Phillipa to go back to their play.

"Yes?" He answers the phone.

"Hi, Dom," says Arthur, and Cobb can hear him chopping cucumbers in the background. "How are you?"

"Fantastic," Cobb says, grinning into the phone and walking back into the house. "They're… wonderful. Amazing. Spectacular."

He can almost hear Arthur's smile in his next words. "Good. Well, since Ariadne is leaving in two days' time back for Paris, I thought we should all get together and give her a farewell. I think you know why. And bring Phillipa and James with you, too."

_Don't lose yourself!_

Cobb swallows and nods into the phone. "When?" And Arthur gives him the date – tomorrow – and tells him to come around noon for lunch, and they'll all surprise Ariadne. After that, Arthur says a quick good-bye and hangs up, because he's a no-nonsense type of guy, and Cobb puts the phone away. He tells his children he's going to unpack and heads to his room, dragging his suitcase along with him.

He's rifting through the suitcase when something catches his eye – the pistol he'd carried around with him everywhere, in case he was dreaming. He thinks of throwing it out, but decides that he can never be _too_ sure, because guns could be a source for self-defense. He tucks it away in his suit and continues unpacking, reveling in the room he'd only seen in his dreams for such a long time.

_Whirl, whirl._

Cobb shrieks and drops the mound of clothes in his arms, holding his ears with his hands. The sound is a parasite to him now, and he crouches on the floor, trembling. His top is in his pocket – or is it? He can't remember. He can feel it, or perhaps it's his keys. His hands refuse to move from his ears and check. Perhaps it's on the table, spinning still – he'd better go check –

He gets up and runs to the dining table (_whirl, whirl_) but there is no top. Where on Earth could it be? Maybe he'd left it on his dresser in his room – he runs back, his nails breaking the skin of his ears as he grips them to death – but there is no top on his dresser. The porch! He runs to the porch, seeing his children play happily, unaware of their surroundings, but he's too despaired and distraught to stop and admire – there is no top – no, yes there is! Right in front of him! He can see it spin in front of his eyes, unrelenting, and his hand streaks into his suit pocket to whip out his pistol and he points it at his head, willing, _willing_ _the top to stop, wobble –_

"_DADDY?_" screams James, and suddenly the top is gone. The area before his eyes is empty, and he drops the pistol on the floor of the porch. The sound is gone. There is a feeling in his pocket, and he reaches to find his top. He draws in a raspy breath and collapses to the ground.

There is a whimper, and he looks up to see James and Phillipa in front of him, their eyes glassy with tears. Suddenly Phillipa lunges at him, gripping at him with all her might, sobbing into his suit. James leaps after her and his tears mix hers, and in the next moment, Cobb's vision begins to blur, tears trickling down his cheeks onto the tops of his children's heads. "I'm sorry," he breathes, hugging his children closely. "Christ, I'm so sorry."

"Wh – " Phillipa hiccups into his chest and James's own hiccup follows hers. "What did we do?"

His heart breaks. "No. No! You didn't do anything! Oh, sweetheart," he whispers, pressing his lips on the crown of his daughter's head, "you did _nothing _wrong. Daddy was just – "

What is he?

He takes in a deep breath and continues. "Daddy's just a bit sick. You've done nothing but been amazing, gorgeous angels."

"Will you go to the big guy so he can fix you? Up there?" questions James, pointing to the sky, and Cobb bites back more tears while Phillipa whimpers. Cobb kisses his head as well and murmurs, "No, Jamie. This is something _I_ have to fix."

"What if you can't?" James asks, his eyes wide and fearful.

He is unwilling to answer. "Tomorrow we'll be going to Uncle Arthur's. We're going to surprise one of my new friends. You'll love her."

James brightens up at once, but Phillipa is more reluctant to let the previous topic go. The former leaps up and streaks away into the house.

Phillipa presses closer into her father's chest. "Don't go, Daddy," she says, her voice muffled. "P-please don't go!"

"I won't," says Cobb, wrapping his arms around his daughter tightly. "Ever."

He wishes it could be that simple. At this rate, he isn't so sure anymore.

* * *

**Fluff in the beginning… angsty at the end. I'm split on how I want to end this story. Thank you for all your support! And for the record, if anyone's wondering, this will be a D/A story. Maybe some slight A/A (I admit, they're cute).**

**Reviews make my day. :]**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I seriously wish I had the awesomesauce mind of Christopher Nolan. Unfortunately, I'm not a genius. Inception belongs to him, not me. _Definitely_ not me.

Warning! A bit of strong language in this chapter. Sorry for those who are offended :(

* * *

**III**

Sleep is avoiding him like a plague. Cobb tosses and turns, but there is no relief and his eyes are open in the dark. His pillow is wet with tears and he has long since accepted the fact that he had produced them. Still is. Tears are streaming from his eyes to his bedspread. He's forgotten how to cry. Instead, it's instinctive. The noise is painful to him, so painful that he can't bear it anymore. He can't hear it _now_ but he feels as though his mind is twisting, whirling in pain.

He flips onto his back and stares at his ceiling. The first night in his house and he's crying not of joy but out of pain and sorrow. He wants to enjoy it completely, being with his children, but at this point, he decides it's impossible. He rubs at his wet eyes and gives a soft groan, twisting to his left, reaching for his wallet on his nightstand to occupy his time. Nothing of value besides credit cards, photos of his team members, checks from previous jobs he'd done that contained enormous amounts of money – he sighs and places it back on the nightstand.

His eyes spot his notebook beside it and he picks it up. He flips through his notes (_I WILL SPLIT UP MY FATHER'S EMPIRE, _it says at one point, referring to the idea that was to be implanted in Robert Fischer Jr.'s mind), and finds two mazes that were easy to solve – Ariadne's mazes. She'd flipped to the back of his notebook to draw a third maze, because she was determined not to be deterred by the lines of the paper.

Cobb flips to the back. He hasn't solved the maze yet. He might as well, so he picks up a pen and lies on the bed with the maze on his stomach. It's intricate and one of the best he's tried. He's forgotten mazes as good as these, and it before he knows it, it's morning, and he wakes to find the notebook on his stomach and the tears on his cheeks and pillows dried. It's a quiet morning, until his children burst into his room with a newfound excitement.

"Daddy, you _have _to get ready!" says Phillipa, climbing on the bed and helping James up on it as well. "Do you know what time it is?"

He smiles groggily at her. "What time is it, peanut?"

"It's nine oh three," she says matter-of-factly. "You were asleep for a long time. Me and Jamie were waiting for you!"

James prods at his notebook. "What's this, Daddy?"

Cobb sits up and holds up the notebook, squinting at it. Ariadne's maze. He hasn't solved it yet. "Oh, it was something to help me fall asleep."

"You're not tired at night, Daddy?" asks James curiously. Cobb chuckles and replies, "Believe me, Superboy, I get really tired. Sometimes I just can't fall asleep."

James squeals at his nickname (he adores Superman) while Phillipa's head quirks to the side. "You should count sheep," she advises him.

He rises from the bed and lifts Phillipa and James off as well, reaching for the covers to pull them up and at least make the bed look made. "Tried. Alright, kiddos, let's get ready. Uncle Arthur wants us over by noon."

"Uncle Arthur!" they shriek. "We didn't see him for a long time!" Cobb smiles slightly at their enthusiasm and rushes them to get dressed (he's given them a bath the night before), and he goes to the shower to freshen up.

He looks into the mirror and realizes how tired he looks; he's got bags under his eyes and his frown lines seem twice as much carved into his face. His hair is mused and his normally gelled back bangs are hanging over his eyes. He shakes his head and turns on the faucet of the shower, stripping and stepping in and allowing the warm water to soak him thoroughly.

_Whirl, whirl._

He screams and clutches at his head, losing his balance and slamming into the wall of the shower. The pain doubles and he pleads for it to go away, shutting his eyes and pulling his hair by his fingers. Instinctively, he reaches for the pistol – it's not there. He opens his eyes and rips the shower curtain away, grabbing the nearest thing – scissors.

There's a frantic knock at the door. Cobb swears as he drops the scissors in his surprise. "Daddy?" calls Phillipa worriedly. "Daddy, are you okay? You were yelling!"

The noise is gone. "I'm… I'm fine, peanut," he responds raggedly, staring at the scissors now on the bathroom floor.

"Okay! Be careful, Daddy!"

"I will." He's lucky to have children as wonderful as Phillipa and James. Carefully, he closes the shower curtain and steps back into the stream of water coming above him in the shower. He's there for another ten minutes, inattentively scrubbing to remove the dirty feeling off of his skin, and finally when his skin is raw meat, he closes the faucet and steps out, aching.

Moments later he is standing in front of his dresser, looking at himself in the mirror. He looks better. His hair is gelled back (of course) and he looks cleaner, healthier, because of his shower. He still has bags under his eyes but he knows Arthur won't ask. Arthur never asks.

They leave at eleven thirty, after he feeds his angels cereal for breakfast (because he can't cook to save his life) and soon they are at Arthur's. Arthur welcomes him and his children with open arms, giving James and Phillipa the biggest hug they can possibly imagine, and they all move to the living room, were Eames is already waiting on the sofa. To his surprise, so is Robert Fischer Jr. Immediately, he turns to Arthur, who gives him a look that means, _We will talk about this later._

"We met on the plane from Sydney," says Fischer, holding out a hand as Cobb turns back to the man skeptically.

"He insisted on coming," Eames puts in. "We had nothing to do with it."

Fischer shoots Eames a dirty glance and turns back to Cobb. "Your name isn't actually Mr. Charles, is it?"

Cobb shakes his head. "No, sir. But aren't you – "

"Angry?" Fischer laughs. "Not at all. I should be, but I'm not. It's thanks to _you_ I realized what was going on. In a way, you helped me. I'm indebted to you."

Cobb rubs his temple in fatigue as a small, dull pain rises from the back of his head. "I'm Dom Cobb." He says the only thing that he can think of. Fischer smiles at him in response while Eames mimes gagging in the background. Arthur entertains Phillipa and James and Fischer motions to them. "Your children?"

"Yes. My angels," says Cobb, trying to take his mind off of his uncomfort.

"Where is your wife?" Fischer inquires.

Cobb is silent and the only noise is Phillipa and James's giggling. They haven't heard Fischer (thank goodness). "She passed away a while ago," he says finally. He doesn't want to say that it was Mal's – no, that it was _his_ fault Fischer had been sent down to Limbo for that time. Fischer gives him an odd look and Cobb knows that he is thinking about the woman (Mal) he'd seen in Limbo, who had trapped him on the porch, but the look vanishes.

"I'm sorry." Fischer's sincere.

"It's okay. I've moved on," Cobb says, and at that moment, there are three quick knocks in succession at the door. Arthur is busy with Phillipa and James (_very _busy, it seems, because James is on his back and pulling his ears – it looks decidedly painful) and Eames has probably dared himself to glare at Fischer for as long as possible before he notices. Cobb goes to the door himself and opens it.

Ariadne's there and she looks slightly confused for a moment. Cobb thinks quickly and pulls her into a hug. "Surprise," he says, and Ariadne laughs, pushing him away. "Wow, you scared me!" she says, walking in. "I thought I was coming over to help Arthur out with getting rid of some things he didn't need." She stops at the sight of Fischer in the room.

"Hello," says Fischer, smiling politely. "You were on the plane from Sydney, right?"

Ariadne looks pained, and Cobb whispers, "It's okay." From behind Fischer, Eames adds, "Fischer, Ariadne. Ariadne, Fischer."

"Nice to meet you," says Fischer, holding out a hand.

"Oh. Um, like – likewise," she replies hesitantly, shaking his hand then dropping it like a hot potato.

"Daddy?" There's a tug from his legs, and Cobb looks down to find James and Phillipa grasping his right shin. Ariadne gives a small gasp and Cobb smiles. "Hey, Peanut, Superboy. What's up?"

"We're hungry," says James loudly. Ariadne stifles a giggle. Arthur moves closer, ruffles his hair, and says, "Jamie, we'll be having some French food today."

"French?" James asks confusedly.

"Food from France. France is a country. They make good food, love," says Eames from the sofa.

James looks a bit more excited, and Phillipa turns, finding Ariadne behind her. "Hi!"

Ariadne gives a wide smile and kneels down. "Hi. Phillipa, right?"

Phillipa nods happily, glad to be known. "Who're you?"

"I'm Ariadne," the young architect replies, holding out a hand. Phillipa shakes it and adds, "Daddy said you're amazing, Miss Ariadne."

Cobb opens his mouth to say that that was _certainly not _what he said, but Ariadne flushes and says, "Well, that was very nice of him."

Cobb feels his cheeks heat in protest, but he turns away and instead looks at Fischer, who is surveying the scene with curious eyes. "Mr. Fischer," he begins, but Fischer's eyes turn to him and the young man interrupts.

"Would you like to speak privately, Mr. Cobb?"

Cobb hesitates, looking back at his delighted children playing with Ariadne, then to Eames and Arthur, now heatedly arguing over a restaurant they were all heading to later. Finally, Cobb nods and Fischer smiles. "Lead the way."

Soon, they are alone in Arthur's bedroom, which is impeccably clean and organized. Cobb stands at the foot of the bed, trying to ignore the twisting pain in the back of his head. Fischer sets himself on the edge of the bed and looks at him with wide blue eyes. "I supposed you want to know how I learned what you've done."

"That would be nice," answers Cobb, "but I first want your solemn oath you won't release any of this information."

"You have it, then."

Surprised, Cobb loses his train of thought. "What?"

"You have it," Fischer repeats. "I won't tell anybody."

"I don't understand. We _implanted an idea in your head, _Mr. Fischer. Surely you would be against that?"

Fischer pauses, looking at his folded hands sitting in his lap. "You're right, Mr. Cobb, I would be. You created an alibi as the head of the Dream Security in my mind. You tricked me into thinking you were trying to protect me."

The guilt begins to creep up the back of Cobb's neck like a parasite, and he swallows.

"I also learned that you were protecting me from becoming someone I'm not. For that, I am forever grateful." He gives Cobb a smile. "I very vaguely remember talking to my father. And I remember the childhood now that I'd forgotten in my sorrow, when my father's love for me was shown more clearly."

Cobb looks around, uncomfortable. He had expected a change of mind, a bluff, but certainly not gratitude. Fischer coughs and Cobb turns his eyes back to him. "I learned from Miss Ariadne," Fischer continues, looking slightly guilty. "She looked… very familiar, _very familiar, _and I _knew_ I'd seen her before. I was pretending earlier, saying I didn't know her back with Mr. Eames and the sort, because they didn't know I had talked to her. Anyway, I approached her in the airport, and she lied about knowing me – I could tell she was because she was shaking a bit and her hands were wringing – and she said she didn't know me, and… well, I got a bit out of control."

A flash of anger runs through Cobb. "What did you do?" he whispers.

Fischer gives a wistful smile at him. "I don't think I should tell you. I am not at my best when I get angry, Mr. Cobb."

"You didn't hurt her, did you?" Cobb hisses, leaning dangerously close to Fischer, who flinches and backs away slightly.

"No, Mr. Cobb, I didn't hurt her. Physically, anyway."

"What the _hell _do you mean by that?" says Cobb, his voice rising.

"I said I would have her followed," Fischer replies, his voice quivering. "I would learn everything. I would learn her personal life, her job, her desires – everything."

"You _bastard!"_

Fischer looks back up at him and swallows. "But she told me, Mr. Cobb, and I am so happy she did. I feel better, so much better."

Cobb's lips thin and he backs away, crossing his arms over his chest and looking to the side at the mirror on Arthur's rich mahogany dresser. "You – you can't do that to my team members."

A faint sound reemerges from the back of his mind and Cobb's knees collapse slightly, but he brushes it off as a slip, leaning against the wall. "Don't threaten them. Don't ever. Not her, not anyone."

Fischer stares down at the ground. "I was wondering if you'd do something for me."

"No. No." He moves away from the wall and clenches his fists, trying to think of anything but the noise.

"Please, Mr. Cobb, at least hear me out."

Cobb wavers, but then resolutely shakes his head. "I won't. Not now."

"Later, then." Fischer is unrelenting and watches him firmly.

Cobb bites his lip and whispers, "What is it?"

Fischer pauses, as though he's deciding whether or not to tell him, and then he smiles at him, standing and straightening his suit. "I just want you to thank her for me. She's helped me more than you can ever imagine."

Cobb has the sudden impression that that hadn't been what Fischer wished to say. "I can imagine," Cobb replies. "She's helped _me_ through a lot more."

"Is that how she is? Helpful? Caring?"

_Whirl, whirl._

The pain is excruciating. "Yes," he says, shutting his eyes and gritting his teeth. "Ex… extremely so."

He opens his eyes seconds later, and Fischer is gone, as though he'd never been there. Cobb sits in Fischer's spot, gripping his head so tightly he feels light headed and dizzy.

_Whirl, whirl._

He groans and glares at the wall in front of him, pulling out his top and spinning it on the hard wood floor. It spins, and spins, and spins – it's still spinning –

_Whirl, whirl._

– it refuses to stop –

_Whirl, whirl._

He lets a shriek rip from his throat as he whips his pistol out and holds it by his head. The top spins, and spins, and suddenly the top's right in front of him, level with him, and he is on the floor, writhing in pain. There is a vague wonder in his mind if this, _this,_ is what Mal felt like when she doubted reality. She was certainly better controlled.

There is a knock on the door. "Cobb?"

He is crawling back to his feet and he locks the door. Looking back, the top is still spinning on the dresser – no, it is on the floor – no, it is on the nightstand on the other side of the room –

"Cobb, are you okay?" It's Ariadne.

Cobb rasps and fights the staggering pain back to the bed, gripping his pistol and staring at the top that is spinning right in front of him. Everywhere he looks, it is right there.

"Cobb!" It's Arthur this time.

"Darling, we know you love the room, but that's quite unhealthy." Eames.

_Whirl, whirl._

Cobb lets out another agonizing scream and he fires the pistol accidentally through the floor. The pressure he feels from moving his finger is amazing, and he knows it will double if he can get the noise to stop –

"COBB?" shrieks Ariadne from behind the door. "COBB?"

"_Cobb, open the door," _orders Arthur, a hint of desperation leaking into his voice. _Whirl, whirl._ Cobb roars again and shoots once more, unseeing. The pleasure is amazing. He suddenly feels a sense of control that he can't explain, and he gives a derisive laugh.

There is another hard knock on the door. "Dominic Cobb, _open the door right now!"_

He glares at the door and doesn't respond, instead examining the pistol in his hands, rasping from the pain in his mind. "_Cobb, open the damn door!"_ He refuses to respond, raising the pistol to his eyes. It's appealing, and he can now understand why Mal was so desperate to leave –

"DOM, OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!" More pounding outside his room. Cobb doesn't want to listen to them, to Ariadne's desperate screams outside the door – they are all _projections _– his top wouldn't stop _spinning _– he prepares to pull the trigger –

"ONE, TWO, _THREE!"_ And the door bursts open as though it had been knocked by a bull, and Arthur is a bullet, rushing over and pulling the gun out of the older man's hands. "Cobb, _what the hell do you think you're doing?"_

"Get the _fuck_ away from me, you damn projection," Cobb bellows, leaping for his pistol, a murderous look on his face. "Arthur, give me the gun!" yells Eames at the door as Ariadne struggles to get into the room behind him. Arthur tosses the pistol and Cobb screams, raising a fist as Eames lifts the gun to his own head and breathes, "If you're so convinced we're projections, darling, I'll kill myself and then you can do the same. Just say the word. Yes or no, am I a projection?"

Cobb freezes, panting in his place in front of Arthur with a raised fist. Ariadne rushes into the room and attempts to get to Cobb, but Arthur lifts an arm and stops her.

"Cobb, look at the top," says Arthur gently. But Cobb can already hear the silence, the lack of the tell tale noise of the top spinning on the floor. Cobb slowly turns and sure enough, the top remained unmoving on the floor beside the bed.

Cobb collapses on the floor, staring unblinkingly at the smooth hardwood. Ariadne falls to her knees beside him and takes hold of his hands, pressing them to her forehead, murmuring, "Thank God, thank God." He hears Eames and Arthur speaking lowly above him, but he hardly registers it. He clenches his eyes shut, trying desperately to understand why he doubts reality every second of the day.

"This is the third time this happened. Third!" hisses Arthur. "And it's getting worse every time!"

There is a knock on the open door. "Can we come in?" It's Fischer.

"Daddy?" Cobb hears Phillipa's soft voice carry through the room. The guilt spreads through him like wildfire. How can he doubt reality when it is so obviously in front of him? He opens his eyes and looks toward his children, who stand with Fischer by the door of the room. Cobb heaves in a large, shaky breath as Eames pockets the pistol in his jacket.

"Darling, if only you'd let us see what's bothering you – "

"No," Cobb chokes, kneeling on the floor as the image of a sick man. Arthur kneels down beside him, asking in a soft tone, "Cobb, please, there's something wrong."

"No – "

"Cobb," pleads Ariadne in front of him, gripping his hands tightly.

"NO!" He roars, slamming his head onto the floor. Phillipa and James let out large wails, and Fischer pulls them toward him, murmuring words into their ears. "You won't _understand!" _

He remains on the floor, rocking back and forth, and it isn't until he feels tears on his hands that he looks up to see Ariadne's eyes bright with tears. He's shocked for a moment because she hasn't _ever _cried. Ever.

"Daddy, is this our fault? For telling Uncle Arthur?"

Cobb exhales unevenly, giving a throttled sob. Arthur sighs and offers an explanation. "After you… screamed… they were scared. I asked them what was wrong, and they said that you always yelled when you were alone. Fischer had just left the room. And we – we had to see what was wrong. We didn't believe you had stubbed your toe or something. Cobb, something's wrong."

Cobb can barely hear Fischer telling Phillipa and James that nothing is their fault, that they have done nothing wrong. "Your father loves you," he says, and there's a tinge of sadness in his voice, "and he will always love you. Always. No matter what happens."

"Cobb," breathes Ariadne. "Cobb, what's wrong?"

He shakes his head. "No. I won't bring you into this again."

Eames slams a foot down on the ground and the whole room flinches. "God _dammit,_ Dom Cobb, we don't need your noble traits coming in now! Learn to let people in! You let Mal nearly _destroy_ our last project and you almost _lost yourself _in Limbo, and now you want to just have us watch you drown in your own insanity?" He pauses, and Cobb feels more tears fall on his hands.

The Forger takes a deep breath and continues. "I may not seem like the type to say it, darling, but we're your family."

"I know," whispers Cobb.

"So let us in."

"I'll think about it," Cobb answers, squeezing Ariadne's hands back, and she gives a teary laugh. He is still at shock with her behavior because she has never _ever _cried. She has always been strong and he decides he never wants to see her cry again.

Arthur looks back at Eames. "That's better than a no."

And Eames nods before checking his watch. He starts and says in a put-out tone, "Well, we sure missed the special at _Café Beaujolais._ Are we still going somewhere or should we order pizza?"

Beside Fischer, James lets out a joyful shriek and says, "Pizza!"

Cobb forces himself to stand. There is still a dull ache in the back of his head, but he can handle it for now. Ariadne lets go of his hands and he vaguely realizes he misses the warmth; he shoves his hands in his suit pockets to compensate.

"Your call, Ariadne," says Arthur, referring to the food.

"Pizza's fine. I haven't had it for a while, actually," she says, giving a smile and wiping her cheeks to rid herself of her tearstains. "We could use change right now."

She looks back at Cobb as she says this, and he swallows. Ariadne falls back in step with him as they move out of the room.

"Cobb, please," she says, pausing in the middle of the hallway as the rest of the group moves to the living room. He stops with her and sighs.

"Drop it."

She gives a stubborn huff and retorts, "You scared me to death. If you had actually killed yourself, I wouldn't know what I'd do."

"Ariadne, you can't," he says, putting his hands on her shoulders. "I won't let you."

"Why? Because you don't want me to experience what it's like to be Dom Cobb? You don't want me to doubt reality for one day?" She gives him a hard stare, but her eyes are glassy. "I'll let you know that I have to check my totem _daily_ because I'm that off balance. Maybe multiple times per day. Cobb, I'm already there."

"But you don't feel as though you'll die from not knowing," he shoots back. "You don't feel like your head will burst."

Ariadne lifts her chin defiantly. "Well, if I don't know, I probably will soon."

Cobb falters, searching her eyes. "What?"

"Fischer has a business offer. He contacted Saito and I'm going to be their architect for the job," she informs him.

Cobb pales and shakes her shoulders even more. "Ariadne, you can't!"

"I've already made my choice!" she snaps back. "And sooner or later I'll be just like you. So let me in _now,_ and maybe I'll figure out what's wrong so that maybe, _maybe,_ it won't happen to me. Looking at you, you wouldn't want that, would you?"

"I… no, I wouldn't," he says hurriedly, seeing her look.

"Good. I'll let everyone know tomorrow." She stalks away, down the hall to the living room, where Phillipa's and James's laughter echoes loudly. Cobb sighs and follows her down the hall to the living room. He sees Fischer doing magic tricks, a coin disappearing and reappearing in his hands while James and Phillipa laugh.

_Whirl, whirl._

The last thing he knows is his team's – and Fischer's – shrieks of despair ringing around him.

* * *

**Yes, yes, Fischer actually has a purpose – I didn't just insert him in 'cause I love him (but that contributes a lot). I know it seems a bit odd that he randomly appears but you'll get the whole gist of it later. **

**I wrote this chapter while listening to Time, the last song on the Inception soundtrack by Hans Zimmer (a.k.a. musical God). It was the most awesome thing I had ever done in a while.**

**I can't tell how long this story will be. I'm letting Cobb guide me through this but he's stubborn :/ **

**(Reviews are my life!)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **Inception is owned by Mr. Christopher Most-wonderful-man-alive-because-he-has-the-most-genius-mind-ever Nolan. Not me. Just FYI. Haha.

* * *

**IV**

"Don't you _get it?_ He's suffering. He was supposed to be happy when he came back. Now he's in even more pain. This is ridiculous."

"Should we put him under? He's out cold right now."

"No. Don't, not now, darling."

"You're kidding. We could easily go into his dreams right now and fix him up!"

"Just don't. We'll help him, love, but he needs to be the one to do it. Maybe in our next job we'll – "

"You _know_ he won't do it. He said he was done. Arthur, tell him – "

"He'll do it."

"What?"

"Yeah, he'll do the job. You know he can't live without dreams, he'll come straight back, regardless of his children. Of course, once the problem is done with, he'll be happier in reality."

"I don't think he'll be happier either way. There's something that makes him think he's in a dream multiple times a day, darling. It would continue to be like that throughout dreams."

"Ariadne."

"_What."_

"When the time comes, you'll be going down under with him to learn what's happening."

"I… fine."

"Nngh," says a voice from the sofa. The three of them turn and see Cobb open his eyes drearily.

Ariadne rushes toward him and takes the cold compress off of his head. She hurriedly pushes him back into the sofa as he tries to sit up. "No. You're staying right there."

"Move," he croaks, loosely pushing her hands off of him. "I'm feeling better."

Ariadne ignores him and spreads a sheet over his body. He kicks it off vehemently and attempts to sit up, but he finds Arthur above him and pushing him back down. "God dammit," Cobb groans.

"You really are stubborn, aren't you?" questions Arthur.

"I am _not_ stubborn," says Cobb, shielding his eyes from the light in the corner of the room as a light frown appears on Arthur's face. Cobb kicks the sheet off once more and continues, "Why won't you get on Eames's case? He's the one who's bipolar – "

"Hey!" cries Eames.

Ariadne purses her lips, spreading the sheet over him once more. "You and your terrible sense of humor. You really shouldn't make jokes, Cobb. You're staying right here. Don't move."

Cobb closes his eyes in response, being pushed down slowly into the sofa.

"Him and his terrible sense of humor," Eames mimics in a high voice. Arthur glares at him reproachfully and pushes the cold compress back on Cobb's forehead.

Suddenly, Cobb sits up in fright, the cold compress sliding off his forehead, and Arthur and Ariadne jump back, startled – Arthur curses a second later and tries to shove him back down, but Cobb resists and looks around. "Phillipa and James! Where are they?"

"Fischer took them out on a trip to pick up the pizza – "

"No, no, they're _my_ children, not _his,_" says Cobb angrily, trying to stand, but Ariadne pushes him back. She gives him a hard look and injects, "But maybe he's trying to learn how to be the father _his_ never was. Give him a break."

"Why are you on his side? He's the one who threatened you!"

Arthur's head twists so violently to look at Cobb that he winces, and Arthur whispers, "She was _threatened?"_

"It was nothing," Ariadne assures him.

"It was _everything,_" Cobb protests, standing and pushing Ariadne away from him. "Arthur, he threatened to have her followed if she didn't tell him what had happened at the airport. Do you know what that could have done to all of us? To _her?"_

"Oh no, no," Ariadne says furiously. "You're _not_ going there, Cobb!"

Arthur holds up a hand. "Wait. Fischer's met you before?"

Eames lets out a loud laugh. "Of course he has. He's a multibillionaire who's had his mind secured against people like us. He's bound to remember a face and then question it, darling."

"What did I tell you about calling me that?"

They start off in another argument, and Cobb can already feel another dull pain erupt in the back of his head. He attempts to inconspicuously rub his temple, but Ariadne spots him.

"Tell me what's wrong," she demands.

The discomfort he feels from the ache in his head causes him to snap. "Will you, for once, just leave me alone?" Cobb says without thinking, giving her a hard glare, and she falters. The hurt of his comment flashes through her eyes until they turn hard and cold, icy, and she grits her teeth.

"When you need me," she hisses, hoisting her purse over her shoulder, "scream."

_Whirl, whirl._

And he screams as she's heading to the door, losing his balance and tipping over in slow motion; Ariadne halts for a second before throwing her purse on the floor and running back to him, joining Arthur and Eames to pull him back to his feet as he whimpers in pain, gripping his head manically. "I didn't know he'd actually – " Ariadne starts, but she swallows and the sentence is lost.

"Dom! Dom, can you hear me?" Arthur demands firmly, holding onto his arm steadily.

"Stop," Cobb answers in a pained voice. "Make it stop – please, _make it stop – "_

"Make _what _stop?" Arthur presses the compress on his forehead again as Ariadne and Eames lead Cobb to the sofa once more. "Dom, help us help you – make what stop?"

Cobb hisses in pain, molding his hands through his hair and pulling his hair harshly. "The top! It won't stop spinning!"

"Cobb, darling, there's no top," Eames says softly. "It's in your pocket – "

Cobb points in front of him and screams in a fury, "_IT'S RIGHT THERE, CAN'T YOU SEE IT?"_

"It's okay," whispers Arthur, holding Cobb in place as he struggled against the sofa. "Calm down, Dom, it's okay. There's nothing there. The top's in your pocket. If I take it out, you'll see it isn't spinning. It's okay, Dom."

"No," says Cobb weakly. "The noise…"

Arthur lets go of Cobb and moves away, whipping his cell out of his pocket. "I'm calling Fischer. I need to know something."

Cobb moans loudly and wavers in his spot. The noise (_whirl, whirl_) has become so loud and terrifying to him that he knows now he can't trust them – he can't trust Ruhtra, or Semae, or Endaira, and he knows they're _all_ projections. He just wishes they would leave him alone! His subconscious couldn't be _that_ stubborn –

Meanwhile, Eames whistles, sounding out of place in the image of a trembling Cobb and three worried team mates. "You got his number that bloody quickly, did you, darling? I'm impressed."

"Eames, you're a dick," Arthur retorts, dialing a number and setting the phone beside his ear. Cobb manages to utter out a choked laugh before shrieking in pain once more. Ariadne slaps his arm before turning back to Cobb. "Can you hear me, Cobb?" she inquires gently, and Cobb whispers, "Don't – talk – to me," before gripping his ears and digging his nails deep into his flesh.

"Yeah, it's Arthur," says the point man to Fischer over the cell phone. "Where are you? It's important."

Cobb suddenly lunges for a fruit knife on the coffee table, and Ariadne leaps after him. "Eames!" she yells hoarsely, and Eames grabs one of Cobb's arms. Cobb screams in frustration. "LET GO OF ME, LET ME GO BACK – "

"It's _important;_ I need you to ask James and Phillipa a question. No, you know what, give Phillipa the phone," Arthur orders, and pulls the fruit knife out of Cobb's reach. "Hi, Phillipa. Listen, I need you to think. Did your Daddy ever ask you about anything weird? Like a noise?" He then mouths to Ariadne and Eames, _I'm putting it on speakerphone. _

"_I think so." _Phillipa's voice carries over the phone, frightened. _"Yesterday he asked what we could hear. We told him the wind, the bugs, the birds, but we couldn't hear what he wanted us to hear. Did we do something wrong, Uncle Arthur?"_

"Never think that," Arthur replies as Cobb screams once more. Phillipa whimpers over the phone and Arthur assures her gently, "He loves you and Jamie so much. Don't think that."

Phillipa whispers her assent over the phone and it's given back to Fischer, who asks if he can do anything to help.

"Your business offer is going to have to wait until we calm Cobb down," Arthur tells him firmly. "We need to learn about this noise. It's driving him insane – literally. You saw him earlier."

"_Of course," _says Fischer. _"I'll keep the two kids out a little longer, then."_

And Arthur hangs up before pulling the whole container of utensils toward him as Cobb leaps for a fork.

"Cobb, please, listen," pleads Ariadne. "There's no noise. Nothing!"

"What do you mean, there's no noise? You're not listening! Didn't we all hear it?" he responds desperately, and he threads his hands through his hair. "The top's noise – it's there. Endaira, it's right th-there – "

"Endaira – ?"

"The noise that the top makes as it spins, that's the noise he's talking about," Eames explains. His face has gone from a neutral, calm expression to a pale one, and Cobb feels a large surge of loathing streak through him. _No._ This is a lie, he is a projection.

Cobb rips from their hold to Arthur and knocks him to the floor. Arthur shouts in pain (Cobb feels immense satisfaction at this – perhaps this is how Mal felt, knowing her whole life was a lie) and attempts to shove him back, but Cobb fluidly snatches the pistol in Arthur's pocket and shooting away from him to the far corner of the room.

"I'LL SHOOT," he bellows, pulling the gun to his own head as the three of them look on in horror, "AND YOU CAN'T STOP ME!"

There is a choking sound from Ariadne as she lifts a hand to her mouth. "C-Cobb," she gasps, "please, put the gun down – "

"I'LL SHOOT, BECAUSE YOU ARE ALL _LIES," _he screams, and there are tears all of a sudden. He can't understand. If he wanted to shoot, he would have by now, but his finger won't move, and suddenly he feels trapped. The tears stream down his cheeks like rivers, and he wills his finger to move and press the trigger. It refuses.

"Don't lose yourself!" Ariadne shouts out, and she grips onto Arthur tightly as he holds her trembling figure. "You're losing yourself!"

_Don't lose yourself!_

_Arthur, Ariadne, Eames,_ says a voice.

Ruhtra, Endaira, and Semae are gone. Instead it is the three most trusted teammates he has ever had, and the _whirl, whirl_ fades away. "All…" he says shakily, lowering his trembling hand holding the pistol. "All… lies… _no…_"

Cobb drops the pistol and holds his face in his hands, the tears flowing in waterfalls now, and he can't remember the last time he has cried so harshly. "I… I don't understand…"

He can't remember the last time he hasn't understood anything. He can't remember the last time he'd lost control; he can't remember the last time he'd been at a loss. He can't remember the last time he'd been out of reasons.

"Let us help you, Cobb," breathes Arthur, who is standing beside Ariadne, holding her back from running toward the extractor. "At least then, we'll know we'll have done something. We don't want a repeat of… of Mal."

Cobb feels the tears tread between his fingers and plop onto the floor. His eyes are blurry and his head feels swollen and congested. Mal. Is that how bad it is?

He remembers how he'd planted that idea in her head so long ago. It had been a parasite, growing and rooting itself inside her mind, and its branches spreading through her body, almost like a wildfire. How had he done that? By giving her the impression that her world was a dream, never reality – no, not an impression, an _idea. _He'd essentially spun her top and left it there, in her mind, the recesses of her mind, and it had continued to spin.

Cobb thinks as hard as he can. He will _not_ be left in the dark about this. Never. If he is just like _Mal, _then is the top still spinning? Is there a top somewhere deep in his mind, spinning like a parasite, never giving up? Had Mal always heard the top spinning in the background? Had it drove her so insane that she had eventually lost all control?

"Cobb, please," Ariadne whispers, and suddenly she's right there in front of him as he moves his hands away from his bloodshot, glassy eyes. Arthur and Eames stand near the sofa and give each other calculating looks.

Ariadne steps closer. "What do we have to do?"

"The top," he answers hoarsely, quivering. "It n-needs to stop s-spinning…"

"Just like Mal," says Eames. "This is _just like Mal._" Cobb's eyes move to Eames's for a second, and he can see sincerity so genuine that he almost breaks down once more, but he holds strong. His eyes turn back to Ariadne (_Don't lose yourself!_) and she smiles at him wistfully.

"James and Phillipa can't live without their father," she says.

"You don't know that, Ariadne," he whispers brokenly.

Ariadne lifts her chin defiantly. "Alright, then, they _won't _live without their father," she counters fiercely.

Suddenly, there's a click and Arthur's on the phone. "Yes, hello, Fischer. We'll take your business offer."

* * *

**I feel like I've gotten nowhere with this chapter. Oh well. I really don't know how many chapters this will be…**

**Merry Christmas, everyone. :]**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **Inception doesn't belong to me. (Wow, a straight out disclaimer, who would've thought?)

**Notes: **Good god, I am so sorry for the wait on this. I'd had this on hold so I could work on _And We Know The Similarities._

Inception! I am halfway loving life. It won Oscars for Best Visual Effects (duh), Best Cinematography, Best Sound Mixing and Best Sound Editing. But I've come to the decision that the Academy is full of crap, because Best Original Screenplay was handed off to The King's Speech – first of all, _how does that happen? _Oh yeah, the Academy is stupid and can't tell an original story from its sagging behind. (Sorry. Had to be said.) And the Academy is also deaf because Hans Zimmer was robbed of his best soundtrack yet. Sorry, Reznor, but I just don't find three piano notes at a time appealing.

* * *

**V**

"The mark is a man named Nathan Valor," says Fischer, as if he's been talking of extractions his entire life. "He's twenty nine and has a high position in an energy company."

"Who does he work for?" inquires Arthur, setting himself on the sofa and readying a pen.

Fischer smiles slightly, threading his fingers together on his lap. "Oh. No one big. Just a Mr. Saito."

Eames' eyebrows rise dangerously and Arthur looks down at his clipboard. There is a shuffle from beside him and Cobb, whose face had lost all color within the past hour, straightens and sets haunted eyes on Fischer. "You want us to do an extraction on a man working for Saito."

"It won't destroy him," says Fischer. "Take all the time you need. It isn't about Valor's job, it isn't about the company. I have no desire for revenge. Honestly, it's personal."

"Everything's personal these days," says Arthur, while carefully balancing his pen on his knee.

Fischer nods in response and tilts his head. "Will you do it, now that you know the mark?"

"I don't want to cause trouble anymore, Mr. Fischer," says Cobb tiredly.

"It won't be trouble. The information that I want extracted is merely for my own benefit."

"Which is?" inquires Eames, reclining against a dining chair.

Fischer sighs and unthreads his fingers from each other. "After my father's death, they'd performed an autopsy. It was kept a secret, but my father had died from unnatural causes. Something had been injected in him that slowly began his heart failure. It was a new sort of drug, there isn't a name for it yet. I looked into the group of doctors and surgeons who had been working on him, and one of them was Valor. After that one specific test, he'd quit being a 'doctor' and went to work for Mr. Saito. He does testing for the energy company now."

As Fischer continues to talk, Cobb takes his time to soak in the words, the job. It's complicated. He's done more complicated extractions before – with Mal, back when she was the extractor – but this is new. Arthur asks a couple questions to get to know the mark, and Eames inquires if there's someone special in Valor's life. "He's got two children," replies Fischer. "Rebecca and Max."

Eames is quiet for a moment. Everyone's thinking the same thing, it's obvious. The mark is very intricately chosen and the background is very similar to a person in the same room as the discussion. Cobb suddenly feels very uncomfortable, and he drops his eyes to the floor of his apartment.

Fischer coughs. "No, listen. Valor is a very strict man with hardly any care toward his children. You could say he's devoted to his work but regardless of work or not, he doesn't spend time with his children. His wife divorced him about six months ago and he doesn't care about it whatsoever. The children spend half their time with their mother and half with Valor." He pauses. "It isn't what it sounds like. I promise. I'm a man of my word."

Cobb shifts at his place on the sofa and watches Fischer. "How old are the children?"

"Rebecca is six. Max is five," Fischer responds easily.

In his corner of the room, Eames nods and rests his chin on his palm as his feet fidget, as though hyper and excited. "I would need information on the kids. And the ex-wife, mainly the ex-wife, she seems quite important. This darling Valor of ours seems to be a workaholic."

At once, the door from the children's bedroom at the end of the hall opens. "Come on. It's okay," a voice says soothingly, and there's a small whimper.

Cobb rises from the sofa. "James?" he whispers to himself. Sure enough, there's another whimper and Cobb's heart shatters. He bolts to the hall, finding his son regarding the floor below him with teary eyes, embraced in a young architect's arms.

Ariadne looks up at him and gives him a sad smile. "He just woke from a nightmare."

The job forgotten along with the silent, curious team in the other room, Cobb is at his son's side in an instant, pulling him into his arms as soon as Ariadne lets him go.

"Daddy," sobs James, clutching at his jacket. "Daddy – daddy – p-please don't leave – we're sorry – "

Cobb grips James tighter, and there is suddenly a hand on James' shoulder. "Jamie," says Arthur, who magically appears beside the two of them, "Jamie. Listen to me."

A sniffle comes from James, who is pressed against Cobb's chest.

"Your father will never leave you," Arthur continues firmly, yet softly at the same time.

A dull ache presses against the back of Cobb's head, and he grits his teeth. He won't collapse in front of his son.

"Yes, yes he will, one d-day he'll be sick and never get better 'n he'll h-have to – to go to where Mommy is and I'll never s-see Daddy again!" cries James, trembling. "He'll scream and he won't ever get better, Mommy was like that and n-now she's never coming back!"

_Whirl, whirl._

Cobb's grip on his son lessens, and he falls back toward the floor, his head shattering in pain as his heart mimics it, and he revels slightly in the distraction it causes him as he blanks out for a second, losing all senses of reality. The world swims above him as his mind spins dangerously. _Whirl, whirl._

"Cobb!" calls Arthur, his voice distant. "Cobb, what do you hear?"

Cobb stares blankly at the ceiling, his vision crossing and uncrossing, and the pain in his mind wavering. There is a hand on his arm, he realizes. A sobbing body over his chest. Footsteps down the hall.

"There's a top," he whispers. Someone's righting him against the wall now. The small body is pulled off him.

"Can you see it?" inquires a voice with an accent – Semae. No. Semae isn't real, he tells himself. What's Semae backwards? Eames? Oh, yes. Eames is real.

But can he see a top? Cobb can't see a lot of things, of that he's certain. He's painfully aware of the choked cries from a young boy not too far away. But the world's dark. Very dark, as if he is in a dim lighted bedroom. Toys are scattered across the floor.

_Whirl, whirl._

"Stop it, stop it, stop spinning it," he mumbles, craning his head away from the worried looks of the surrounding team. "Please, please, just let me go back… let me go back… Mal, Mal, where is she?"

"Mal's gone, Cobb," says a sad voice, and Endaira – no, _Ariadne _– no, who _is_ that? – is in front of him, darkened in his vision.

"Ariadne. Feel his pocket," says the Brit. There's a fumble against Cobb's jacket and another voice. Endaira? Ariadne? "It's got his top." Yes. Endaira.

His eyes are burning, his ears bursting. But he keeps a hold on himself. He won't let go, not in front of them. There's another voice this time, and a hand pulls his own from his face and into his pocket. He feels a steel, cold object, smooth as ice, and his head is cleared slightly. He pulls the object out of his pocket. A top. His eyes halt in their pain and out of pure instinct, he spins it on the floor in front of him. It spins. The noise is loud, but it is painless.

And the top falters in its spinning, mockingly tilting onto its side and swinging every which way before resting in front of him as the noise in his mind halts as well.

"Daddy? Daddy? Daddy?" cries James. Yes. That's his son, James. He knows it now. He won't ever let him go; he won't ever disappoint Jamie or Phillipa – his angels – ever again.

"I'm sorry, Daddy, I'm sorry – "

"James," whispers Cobb.

James freezes, trails of tears on his young cheeks, bright blue eyes as despaired and lost as the sea. Someone kneels in front of James – is that Fischer? – and grasps the young boy's small shoulders.

"Your father won't leave you." Fischer's voice is soft and nearly inaudible, but everyone hears it anyway. "Your father won't ever leave you."

"Does Daddy hate me?" whispers James.

_No, no, I could never hate you, _thinks Cobb brokenly. And Fischer voices him exactly. "No. _No_. He could never hate you. No father could hate their children. No father could live without their children. No _parent_ could ever live without their children."

"Mommy could," says James quietly, his eyes welling with tears.

"Your mother couldn't live without you either," says Arthur from beside Cobb. James' wide eyes turn to the point man and Arthur continues, smiling. "Your mother died for you."

There's a snap within James' eyes and he turns them to the floor. Cobb realizes it's the first time James has heard the words 'mother' and 'died' in the same sentence and doesn't think it possible for his heart to shatter anymore. Rising from the floor, swaying slightly, and placing his totem back in his pocket, Cobb crosses to his son and pulls him from Fischer.

"Jamie."

James watches him with blonde wisps falling into his eyes, his small hands clutching each other and his mouth trembling. Cobb embraces him with everything he has, until James coughs and splutters and eventually bursts into laughter.

"Don't you ever think this is your fault," says Cobb, releasing James from his hold after a few seconds. "I did. I thought it was all my fault. But I want you to be careful and live your life without worries."

"I'm gonna get a doggy when I get bigger," says James, a wide smile growing on his lips, the tears in his eyes drying.

Cobb's head is still aching, but for the sake of his children, Cobb decides he won't lose himself. Not this time around. No, he won't lose himself ever, because he has a new job to do.

* * *

It's nearly midnight before Ariadne, Eames, and Arthur begin to get ready to leave. Fischer has left a couple hours earlier, heading off to a newly purchased house in San Francisco. Cobb's seen James and Phillipa to bed straight after Phillipa's piano lesson and waits now as Eames scribbles a number on a pad of paper on the dining table.

"Fischer'll probably be getting in touch with me about the ex-wife of Valor," says Eames. "If you have any questions on it, love, just ring up and I'll tell you what I've got. I'll be quite busy the next few weeks with this. Oh, and Arthur, darling," Eames adds, smirking slightly, scribbling the same number, and what seemed to be an address, on another sheet of paper. "Here, this is for you. If you ever find a girl around here before the job, you can always use my place to… you know. Enjoy yourself." The Brit winks indiscreetly and shoves the paper in Arthur's hands. The point man immediately throws it into the fireplace without a second thought.

Cobb holds out his hand and both the forger and the point man shake it in response. Cobb turns to Ariadne and pulls her into a hug, before releasing her and writing a number on a sheet of paper. "This is for you. If you have any questions on the architecture, ask me. And have fun in Paris. Get good grades on your studies."

"I'll do my best," she assures him. "But Cobb, please… be careful."

Their eyes are on him, watching him, gauging him. He doesn't look at Arthur or Eames, only at Ariadne.

"It's hard to be careful," he tells her in a low voice, nearly cracking.

"Then wait for us to help you," says Arthur fiercely, before Ariadne can respond. "Please, Cobb. Your children need you."

Cobb shakes his head and avoids their eyes, instead watching the wall behind them. "I've already left them on their own for so long. They already believe I'll leave them again."

Eames places a hand on his shoulder, and Cobb glances at him. The forger's eyes are hard and firm. "A belief, not a truth. You can change a belief, love," says Eames, "when it's still a belief. Don't make it a truth."

Cobb drops his gaze to the floor for a split second. His head is aching terribly, but the noise has left him alone to bear the pain. His hand slips into his pocket and grips his totem. It is still, not spinning, and the pain subsides slightly.

The extractor lifts his head. "You'll help me?"

"When have we not?" inquires Arthur, smiling slightly.

Cobb's eyes shift from Arthur to Eames, to Ariadne. "I want my children," he says brokenly, gripping his totem tightly in his pocket that his hand feels as though it is about to burst. "I don't want to live with them afraid I'll leave them any second."

And all of a sudden, they're grinning.

He smiles too. It's then he realizes that his own despair will intensify the despair of those around him. It's the one thing he knows he's realized that Mal hadn't when she had gone through the same thing.

* * *

**Ugh, this chapter feels like a filler too. I am so sorry for the wait on this. This story, I will say now, won't be longer than 12 – 15 chapters. 15 chapters is definitely the maximum.**

**Thanks for those staying with me and being patient with this story. Cobb was pulling this in such an odd direction, and Fischer was pulling it in a more odd direction, so it ended up being something like a filler chapter. **

**Congratulations on Inception winning four Oscars and tying with The King's Speech for the most! Though I think Inception should have had at least two more. *coughScreenplayandScorecough***

**Love you all! And reviews = fantastic. :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **Inception doesn't belong to me, even after all this time. Geez. You'd think by now I'd find a way to earn rights, considering how I'm still so obsessive I am over it. … that was a joke, by the way, Nolanpleasedon'tkillmeIloveyou :'D

**Notes: **Sorry, again, for the really long time it took to update. Exams are here. =/

* * *

**VI**

Over the next few days, it is Arthur who hangs around at his house to monitor Cobb. The point man says he doesn't mind, that New York can wait and Eames can too (Eames wants to buy an apartment there, though Cobb doesn't see how he'd be able to pay it off), and Cobb says nothing.

He is leaning on the kitchen countertops while listening to Arthur talk on the phone to Ariadne, who is making sure Arthur knows exactly how to talk to Cobb and get him to open up. Not that Cobb's having a difficult time talking now.

"Thank you, Ariadne," Arthur says into the phone. "So how's it like, being back in Paris?"

Cobb straightens and begins to brew coffee, listening to Arthur talk amicably to Ariadne on his cell. The second he opens the cabinet to pull out a coffee mug, Phillipa and James run into the kitchen and attach themselves to his waist. Cobb puts the mug back in the cabinet and hugs them back. "What's up, Peanut, Superman?"

"Happy Father's Day, Daddy!" yells James into his pant leg.

Phillipa raises her blue eyes to look at him shiningly. "We made you a card!"

"Oh, wait, hold on a sec," says Arthur, and Cobb glances up to see him smiling wickedly. "He just figured out it's Father's Day."

"A card?" Cobb repeats, stunned. Back before Mal's death, they'd never even known about Father's Day. "But I – "

"It's in our room, come look, come look!"

"Oh. Alright then," says Cobb weakly, and Arthur's eyebrows rise. _Watch yourself,_ he mouths, and Cobb knows exactly what he's talking about.

Phillipa and James lead him to their bedroom and jump on their beds, pointing to the dollhouse. "It's there, open it, Daddy," says James, and his eyes gleam.

Cobb moves to the dollhouse, around numerous toys scattered on the carpeted floor, and opens it. Inside is a safe.

_Oh shit._

He opens it and there is nothing there, but a constant whirling suddenly pushes into his mind, and he grits his teeth horribly. "Arthur. Arthur. Arthur, come in here," he calls painfully.

Arthur jogs into the room just as Cobb leans against the dollhouse. Phillipa and James look at Arthur oddly before jumping off their beds and moving toward him.

"I'm sick and tired of these tests, Arthur," says Cobb, twisting around to face him.

"Should I be worried?" Arthur replies, looking down at Phillipa and James, who are staring up at him with wide, unblinking eyes.

"Maybe," says Cobb, looking back at the dollhouse before shutting the safe. The whirling decreases dramatically, and Arthur begins speaking once more, "You're getting better at this."

Cobb turns in place to face the point man and sees Phillipa and James tugging dangerously at Arthur's pants, stomping on his feet and biting him. Arthur is doing a phenomenal job withstanding the pain.

"Stop it," Cobb says to the projections of his children, but they take no heed and continue to tear at Arthur.

"You didn't make a noise this time," Arthur groans, trying to pull Phillipa off of his chest – she's climbing up to his head, attempting to tear out his hair. James draws blood while scratching out Arthur's leg.

"When do we wake up?" Cobb inquires impatiently, desperate to get back to reality and leave the sickening image of his children ripping Arthur apart – literally.

Phillipa draws her nails against Arthur's arm and Arthur puts his other hand over her eyes. She screams and bites his hand, but Arthur doesn't make a sound. James leaps onto his back and claws at the point man's neck, and Cobb repeats, "Stop it!"

Arthur lets Phillipa continue to scar his arm as James grabs the point man's head, twisting it dangerously to the side. Arthur resists easily and says, "James, that's not how you treat adults." To Cobb, he raises his eyebrows and grimaces slightly, muttering something incomprehensible – Phillipa is now smacking his chest with her fists.

Cobb makes out the words _thirty seconds,_ and Cobb moves forward to take Phillipa off of Arthur, but Arthur bursts out, "Don't."

"Why not?" says Cobb desperately.

Distracted, Arthur doesn't seem to notice as James latches onto his head with a surge of adrenaline and twists his head to the side – a sickening crack is heard and Arthur falls to the ground, his head nearly a hundred eighty degrees around his body, and Phillipa and James jump off of him as the house begins to crumble.

Cobb moves toward the safe again and opens it as the whirling shoots into his mind once more. He grits his teeth again just as the roof caves in on his head, and he wakes with an aching mind and sees Arthur rubbing the back of his neck.

"You _are_ getting better, Cobb," says Arthur honestly, standing and putting away the needles and wires from the PASIV. "I've talked to Ariadne and she says this is the best way to go."

"Because she's _done it before,_" Cobb protests, putting a hand over his eyes to avoid the bright sunlight in the room. He looks around, noticing for the first time they're in the dining room, and the voices of Phillipa and James – not projections, but actually his real children – are happily discussing a pile of finger paintings on the porch. "She – she ignored my warnings and just butted her way into my dreams."

"You don't like that?" inquires Arthur, pausing and looking at him.

"Well, I – don't be like her," Cobb defends, rising.

Arthur shrugs. "Okay." And without another word, he lifts the briefcase up and goes to the porch, where he says goodbye to Phillipa and James.

_Whirl, whirl._

It's unexpected, but Cobb only bites his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood instead of collapsing and screaming. He can't help but curse, though, as he sees Phillipa and James latch onto Arthur like leeches, and crack his neck again –

The phone rings.

Cobb blinks, the noise halts and yields to the ringing of the phone, and Cobb sways and as he stands to answer it. By the third ring he regains his balance and crosses to the phone.

"Hello?" he answers, leaning against the kitchen countertop.

"_Mr. Cobb!"_ says a younger voice across the line, only by a couple of years. _"Hello. It's Robert Fischer."_

Something inside of him twinges, but Cobb says nothing other than, "Mr. Fischer, how are you?"

"_I'm fine, thank you,"_ says Fischer over the line. _"I wanted to let you know that Mr. Valor is arriving in Los Angeles a month from now, in order to attend a business meeting for his supervisor."_

"So I have one month to prepare the job."

"_Yes, that's what I'm saying."_

Arthur comes back into the room and sees Cobb on the phone. "Is it Fischer?" he asks.

"_Tell your… um, point man, that I have some information about Nathan Valor he won't have to retrieve."_

Cobb relays this information to Arthur, who gives him a puzzled look.

"_You know what, put Mr. Darling on the phone," _says Fischer.

"Mr. Darling, he wants to speak to you," Cobb parrots, before handing the phone to Arthur, who flushes a terrible red and grits his teeth, saying tersely, "_Yes,_ Mr. Fischer?"

There is a tug on his pant leg and Cobb looks down to see James holding a card out in front of him. "Happy Daddy's Day, Daddy!"

Phillipa appears right behind him and huffs. "It's Happy _Father's _Day, Jamie!" she reprimands.

Cobb kneels down and embraces his children as tightly as he can while trying not to break them, and soon James gasps for air, while Phillipa gives off a tight giggle. When he lets go and looks at the card, he finds it covered in Phillipa's much neater drawings (as neat as a five year old can draw, anyway) and on top of it are scribbles – James'.

"I _told_ him not to," says Phillipa matter-of-factly. "He didn't listen."

"I made it pretty!" James defends.

Cobb opens the card and is stunned that the first thing he sees a picture of James, Phillipa, himself, and Mal. Off to the left is a terrible representation of Arthur, a blob that resembles nothing whatsoever, which Cobb presumes is Eames, and the stick figure of a girl Cobb believes they put effort into making Ariadne (and Cobb is surprised to see this, because they only met her for a day – but Ariadne must have made an impression on his kids, he thinks).

"Family," says James, pointing to the card. Cobb's heart breaks.

"Silly Jamie!" says Phillipa. "We didn't have room for Grandpa. We put him on the back."

Cobb flips to the back and sees a stick figure with grey markings at the top of the head for hair, and he knows instantly that they had drawn Miles. His heart catches in his throat and he kisses his children on the crowns of their heads.

"Daddy! Daddy, look," says James excitedly. "Mommy don't have feet, see?"

Cobb looks closely and sees that indeed, Mal is lacking feet. Instead her legs are curved slightly and wiggling on the paper.

"'Cause she's not here anymore," James continues. "But she has special feet 'cause she's somewhere getting better forever."

The toddler pauses and the moment of silence, broken only by Arthur's distant conversation with Fischer, is deafening. Finally, James adds, "But if Daddy's sick, Daddy gets special feet too 'cause he needs to get better."

"Oh, no, Superman, I don't need special feet," protests Cobb, his heart clenching painfully. "I'm staying right here. Mommy was really sick, so she's… she's not coming back."

There's a beep behind them and they turn to see Arthur end the phone call and place the phone on the countertop. Arthur looks at Cobb and his children for a moment before saying, "I think we can agree your dad needs a bigger gift."

"I do!" James chirps.

"Can we have a party like Ari had?" Phillipa cuts in, excited.

Yes, Ariadne must have had a huge impression on them.

"I like that idea," says Arthur. "But we've had enough of parties. Say, Jamie, Phil, let's take your dad on a trip, since it's near your summer vacation."

James gives a high pitched squeal of excitement while Phillipa smiles widely; Cobb has no say in the matter (he knows it) but he tries to give a moral sense anyway. "I've been on trips for the past one and a half years," he says helplessly.

* * *

Minutes later Phillipa and Cobb are back out in the yard, enjoying the near-summer sun. Arthur sits Cobb down at the dining table, obviously noticing the tensed stature of the extractor, and tells him, "Cobb, we're doing this for you."

"I don't need it," says Cobb, shaking his head and keeping a firm stare at a spot in the table in front of him.

"We've already been over this – "

_Whirl, whirl._

His teeth clamp over his lip painfully, reopening the scabs, in an effort to distract him from the terrifying sound of the top. Vision blurring and darkening, he says tightly, "How are you going to help m-me?"

Arthur watches him worriedly before sighing. "We're only going to do test runs… actually, Ariadne will. She's been with you before in Limbo and if that's where we need to go – Cobb – hey, Cobb – Cobb?"

His hands are clenched so tight around each other that his knuckles are pearl white and he's drawing blood from digging his nails into his skin. _Whirl, whirl._ Inside, he's screaming – outside, he's given up on distracting himself. Looking around with blurred vision, he can barely make out the knife rack on the countertop three meters away from him –

"Dom – ?"

Cobb bolts from his seat for the knife rack and Arthur shoots right after him. "Dom!" hisses Arthur, but Cobb pays no heed. _"Dominic!"_

Cobb grabs a knife out of the rack – _whirl, whirl – _and holds it out in front of him. "Don't come any closer," he breathes, and his vision is so dark he can barely make out the form of Ruhtra in his children's bedroom, tears streaming out of his wide, deceitful stare and down his cheeks, hands extended to claw Cobb's own eyes out of his eye sockets.

The point man comes closer and hisses, "Cobb, think about what you're doing. Where's the top?"

"You're not real," Cobb cries out. "You're not real – "

_Whirl, whirl._

Cobb flings the knife forward and the point man's eyes widen, and Ruhtra's tears stop. He ducks and the knife barely misses him, lodging into the wooden wall behind him, and the point man stares incredulously at Cobb for a moment.

And suddenly, Ruhtra knocks Cobb to the ground, pinning his hands to his sides and hisses, "Cobb, _stop it."_

Ruhtra takes out his phone and continues, "We're calling Ariadne."

"No – who? Who?" wails Cobb, struggling to get out of the point man's grasp; Ruhtra only tightens his grip and dials a number into his phone. Cobb shuts his eyes, refusing to see what his mind will show him of Ruhtra, of Limbo – he doesn't want to see the rivers of tears rolling down Ruhtra's cheeks as his stare deceives them. He just wants to stop hearing the _whirl, whirl_ inside his mind.

"Ariadne, _you've got to talk to him," _says Ruhtra into his phone. "No. He's gone insane. The tests haven't been doing anything. He just went berserk. He didn't scream at all. Talk to him."

And Ruhtra puts the phone to Cobb's ear; Cobb bellows out in agony, straining even more against Ruhtra's hold.

"_Cobb!"_

_Endaira!_

"Stop it – stop it – stop trying to kill me," gasps Cobb. "I don't want help from you. I just want to leave, but not from you!"

_Whirl, whirl – _the top is straight ahead of him in a dim lighted room, and instead of Ruhtra there's a dollhouse with a top spinning inside. He wants to stop its incessant spinning but he can't – Christ, how he wish he _could – _

"_Where are you, Cobb?" _Endaira's voice comes over the line, and despite the hostility Cobb _knows_ she intends, her voice is hauntingly soothing.

"I'm in a bedroom," he gasps. "I'm in a dark, dark bedroom."

"_What's in there?"_

"A d-dollhouse, it's big. And it's that _stupid_ t-top – " He falters, panting, before relaxing slightly.

"_Can you touch it?"_

"Yeah – yeah, I – no… n-no, it's not – it's not there any… more…" says Cobb, blinking tears away and staring blankly into Arthur's tie. "I don't… oh, oh no…"

Arthur takes the phone away from Cobb's ear and gets off of the extractor. "Thanks," he breathes into the phone. "Listen, we're coming straight over. I'll do more tests. We need to get rid of that top. Yeah, I know."

He hangs up, and pulls a swaying Cobb to his feet. "I'm going to give you a glass of water, and then you're packing. We're heading to New York."

"Ph-Phillipa – James – "

"They're coming too."

"_No…"_

"Yes. They're going to be the first thing you see when you wake up after getting rid of that top, Cobb." Arthur's tone is firm, unrelenting, and absolutely, devotedly brotherly. "And you know what? Valor's there too."

"You mean – "

Arthur gives him a smirk, handing Cobb a glass of water. "That's right. If we have to, we'll get rid of that top during the same time as we extract from Valor."

* * *

**Aaaaand there it is. I don't know what to think of this one. I started it off feeling good… and then I… I don't even know, haha :) **

**So anyway, I'd really appreciate it if I'd get some reviews this time. I want to know what you all think! :D Love you all!**


End file.
